Family Portrait
by ArtsyChick
Summary: Kawaii Hatake used to be part of a wonderful family. So she wants to know how it got so screwed up. AU, OCs. Kinda KakaSaku, because they're married. Based on 'Family Portrait' by Pink.


Okay, just want to make a couple notes here. It's KakaSaku kind of, but they're going through a rough patch in their marriage because Kakashi lost his job (which was not his fault) and can't seem to find another one, so they're kind of poor now. I used the same characters from 'Blackout!', except Kawaii is ten, so that makes Obito twelve. It's also an AU (alternate universe) thing, because it's not in Konoha, but in Tokyo, and they're aren't ninjas. And I think I used yen correctly. I don't know, I'm American.

I was listening to 'Family Portrait' by Pink one day and wanted to write a story about it, so I just picked my little Hatake family. Of course, this would never happen because Kakashi doesn't drink, and Sakura isn't lazy, and they would actually _care_ about their children. Okay, on to the story.

* * *

Kawaii held the splintered wooden frame in her hands, staring at the cracked glass. Mother, Father, Brother, her. All touching. All smiling. All happy.

Sometimes she wished life were like that picture: happy. Her mother hadn't smiled like that since the one time she had thought she had almost won the lottery. Daddy hadn't smiled like that since… she couldn't even remember. Daddy never smiled.

And Obito… Obito was always the happy-go-lucky kid. Daddy said he got it from Momma's side of the family. She could clearly see that. The boy was all smiles, all the time, until very recently. He won awards for that smile.

And herself. The fluorescent lights only made her hair whiter. It was barely pink as it was. Momma said it was because of her father's naturally gray hair that made hers so light. She had to agree, fingering a frayed bang. It framed her peachy skin, making her violet eyes practically pop out of her face. Her yellow dress brightened up the pink and softened the purple, so she was almost as refined and beautiful as her mother. Except for her ear-to-ear smile, caused by her mischievous father running his finger up her backbone, the most ticklish part of her body.

But that was two years ago, when she was eight. Things were different now. Daddy drank. Too much. Momma usually sat in front of the couch and watched soaps all day. Obito joined a thousand clubs so he could be as far away from his dysfunctional family as humanly possible. And then there was her. Plain old Hatake Kawaii, who would probably end up as a combination of her parents when she grew up. Not much was expected of her. Even though her teachers had all once had Obito, a star pupil, they knew about her alcoholic father and lazy mother, and let the little things slide, like a report a couple days late, or haphazard math equations that don't make a lot of sense written next to water stains. Kawaii didn't mind.

She longed to be eight again. She wanted her daddy to scoop her up and kiss her senseless when he got home from work. She wanted Momma to pick her up from school again, and Obito to play Candyland with her again. Daddy didn't _always_ drink. Momma wasn't _always _lazy. Obito _used _to be around. What happened?

But she knew. Daddy lost his job. Laid off. The company couldn't afford to keep his division, so it was cut. Momma cried. Daddy held Momma in his arms and tried to make her stop crying. Obito shouted rude things for that company to go and do to themselves. And Kawaii had stood and listened. She didn't understand what was going on. She was only eight.

It was right after the picture was taken, when they could afford it. Momma had held Daddy's hand. Obito had grinned big. Daddy had tickled her back, and she laughed. They were happy.

Tears dropped off the tip of her nose onto the cracked glass. Daddy had chucked it at the wall one night after being turned down for his twenty-fifth job offer. He was sober. Kawaii had rescued the poor frame and hid it in her underwear drawer, where no one would ever look.

At least she had her art. Kawaii was an artist, the artist. Her talent came from her dad, whom she had once been close to. It was how she expressed herself, and how a heartfelt painting had brought her mother to tears, and her father to kiss her head in pride. The painting had won an award. It hung above her bed.

Tears oozing down her cheeks, Kawaii stood up and pulled down the painting of her family. Momma was glowing, greenish lights haloing her roseate tresses. Daddy was laughing as he hugged Momma, as Obito and Kawaii held a jar with a couple green lights flitting about. She had called it 'Summer Night Fireflies', and it was entered in the city art show by her art teacher. She had won an award for 'Most Talent Shown from a Child', along with 100,000 yen for first place in the show, and an invitation to the state art show. Her painting had won there as well, bringing in 1,500,000 yen, and at national had come in sixth, winning another 1,5000,000 yen. And this was all at age eight.

They would have traveled, but since they already lived in the capital of Japan, Tokyo, there hadn't been the need. But Momma and Daddy had spent the money wisely, because Kawaii, being eight years old, was eager to share her winnings with her parents, who were eager to have them. It was how they had paid for the portrait.

Falling apart inside, Kawaii carried the painting and portrait out into the living room. Daddy sat in the armchair, watching soaps with Momma, an unopened sake bottle in his hand. Momma was seated on a tatami mat on the floor. Obito was in the entry hall, taking off his shoes. Kawaii walked right in front of the TV and to the eastern wall. It was Momma's experimenting wall, with twenty different paint colors on it for future reference. Momma had always wanted to redecorate, but she didn't have the time. And they didn't have the money.

In the center of the wall, Kawaii pounded a tack into the plaster and hung the painting. Underneath it, she positioned the portrait.

While she was doing this, Obito had tromped into the room and stopped. Her father had muted the television and both her parents gazed at her backside.

When the pictures were hung to her liking. She spun around and tiptoed past her father. He eyed her warily, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized her was sober. However, he stood up to his full height and offered a large hand. She took it. Daddy led her to the couch and sat down, positioning his legs so they framed Momma's creamy shoulders. Then, pulling her hand, Kawaii sat delicately in his lap, leaning her head against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and sturdy, thumping loudly in her ears.

Momma reached up and took Daddy's other hand, and squeezed it. Obito crawled next to Momma and leaned his head on Daddy's legs, his silvery hair brushing against Kawaii's toes. With her free hand, Momma took one of Obito's hands and held it in her lap. They all sat staring at the wall.

Kawaii closed her eyes and nestled herself deeper into her father's lap. Her father's hand floated up from her leg to her head, and ruffled her pale pink locks framing her heart-shaped face. And her eyes fluttered opened again as she felt him press his mouth to her head.

"I forgot about that picture, didn't you Sakura-san?" he murmured into his daughter's hair.

"Mmm, yes I did. Where has it disappeared to all this time Kawaii-chan?" her mother asked gently, squeezing her husband's hand again.

"My room," the ten-year-old mumbled, tucking her head down into her father's sweet-smelling shirt. He was wearing sandalwood. Must have gone to an interview that day. Either that or he forgot to change his shirt the night before.

"Hmm, and we didn't notice it? We must be becoming senile Sakura-san."

She chuckled. "Maybe _you're_ becoming senile Kakashi-san, but I certainly am not." Sakura laid her head on her husband's knee, and a sleeping Obito's head fell into her lap.

Kawaii took Kakashi's white dress shirt between her slender fingers and clutched it tightly as she felt slumber overtaking her. The smell of sandalwood, and spice, and her mother's vanilla scented shampoo lulled her away, as her parents held hands and smiled lightly, gazing with loving eyes upon their family portrait.


End file.
